Wycome
by SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: Written based on the Dragon Age Reddit Weekly Writing Prompt: A battle of wills, a reunion, hope, sadness and regret Fen'lath Lavellan is determined to protect the elves of Wycome after the deposition of Duke Antoine of Wycome.


"No."

Fen'lath paused, then looked from the map to Leliana and Josephine. She took a deep breath, and asked as calmly as she could, "What do you mean, no?"

"We should let Lady Guinevere reason with the other nobles of the Free Marches. To send our own troops risks too much. My people are not enough, and we must be circumspect." Josephine nodded enthusiastically as Leliana spoke, then added, "Please, Inquisitor, we _cannot_ have an incident, not when my diplomats may still be able to convince the remaining Marchers to listen to reason. It would be unseemly for us to be seen to be siding with..."

As Josephine trailed off, Fen felt a pit form in her stomach. Her tone was frosty as she bit out, "Siding with _whom_ , Josephine? The merchants who remained in Wycome and are dealing with both the city elves and the Dalish fairly? Do you fear offending the nobles who so bravely abandoned the city to the Venatori who were poisoning the people? Or is the Inquisition still ashamed of acknowledging that their leader is a heathen _knife-ear_ who is concerned about the welfare of other knife-ears?"

Cullen looked away and cleared his throat as Josephine blushed and looked down. Fen felt the edge of the map start to curl under her fingers as her first magic, fire, sparked with her anger. "After Halamshiral and Red Crossing, I had hoped that the notion that the Inquisitor is just a silly, trained _rabbit_ dressing up and thinking it's a people would have been dispelled. At the very least with _my own advisors_."

Leliana's mouth pinched at the mention of Red Crossing, the disagreement over the status of the mourning halla still fresh. Their cartographers had only recently repaired the tears in the map from when Fen'lath had lept onto the war table to try and strangle the Nightingale for suggesting the villagers be told the halla was a captured trophy. It still rankled; she had intended to ease relations between the Dalish and the village, not prop up smug nobles. Fen met Leliana's gaze without wavering, rage making the heat flowing from her fingers scorch hand prints into the table and ignite the map.

Finally Leliana looked away, but she snipped out, "We still should appeal to the Marchers-"

" _FUCK_ the Marchers! They'll bow and scrape to your _shemlen_ diplomats, say all the right things, and _still_ slaughter every elf in Wycome. Would you hem and haw this much if my ears were _rounded_ instead of pointed? Or if I were an Andrastian city elf?" Fen felt something in her throat pop as she shouted, and tears sprang into her eyes. She had never truly been made to feel like she was welcome in Lavellan, but they were her clan. _Her people_.

"Let me make _one thing_ clear to both of you. _I am not ashamed of being an elf. I will not apologize for being an elf_. And _I will not submit_ to the Chantry's dictates on what the proper place for an elf is. End of discussion, _for good_. If you want me to stay on as the Inquisitor, stop treating me like a 'good little rabbit', and save my people _my way_."

"The Inquisitor is right. If we negotiate, the Marchers will kill the elves, then send apologies. We must fortify the city." Cullen placed and hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Voice husky and painful, Fen looked up at him and croaked, "Thank you, Cullen."

He had also sent troops to protect the halla when it was gifted to Red Crossing, she thought as Cullen carefully moved her hands one by one to pat out the flames crisping the parchment. How he could look past her being an elf when Leliana couldn't, even though she had actually traveled with Gwyneth Surana- another elven mage!- to stop the Blight, was truly mind-blowing. Fen straightened and strained out, "I'm going to see Solas about my throat. Meanwhile, I expect the two of you to help the Commander arrange for troops to be moved to Wycome from our posts in the Marches immediately. I will be joining them, along with Solas, Dorian, and Bull. Keeper mentioned there were rifts in the outlying forests, so I already have my cover. Discuss."

She flipped a hand at the two stunned women, and marched out of the room, head high as she passed a non-plussed Cassandra, several distinctly uncomfortable looking guards and an elven maid that appeared to be on the verge of fainting from shock. The trip through the main hall as quicker than normal, the stormy expression on her face keeping most of the sycophants from approaching her this time. Fen paused in doorway of the rotunda, running a finger over one cheekbone, feeling the texture change of her vallaslin, and whispered to herself, "Never again shall we submit."

Solas smiled when he spotted her and set down the pigments he had been fiddling with. The fresco he had done after leaving the Winter palace was finished, Orlesian blue a striking contrast to the reds, browns, and dingy greens of the other frescoes. His smile turned down when he noted the fury still on her face. " _Vhenan_?"

"My throat." Fen waved her hands, it was too painful to say more. His eyes narrowed, and he placed gentle hands against her neck. Cool, soothing magic flowed in, finding and repairing the damage that had been done. "Thank you, _vhenan_. I had a… disagreement with Leliana and Josephine."

"Did you succeed at strangling the Nightingale this time?" Solas was only half-joking. His Dalish wolf was quite magnificent in her fury. Color rode high on her cheeks under the _vallaslin_ , and her Fade-colored eyes sparked. He enfolded her in an embrace, pulling her head under his chin to soothe her. She sighed out, "No, but I think the war table will have hand prints scorched into it eternally. I may have also burnt the Korcari Wilds off the map."

"I doubt there was much left of them after the Fifth Blight that needed to be on the map anyway, _vhenan_." Fen snorted out a little laugh.

"What was the disagreement?" She tensed in his arms, then pulled back. "You're going to need to grab your pack. We're headed for Wycome."

* * *

Standing up in the stirrups, Fen peered at the walls of Wycome through Stormhart's antlers. The Inquisition's banners flew from the walls, easing the knot of tension between her shoulderblades. The Inquisition fleet had landed at the mouth of the Minanter late the night before, too late to actually make their way to the city. Some of the tension melted away at the reassurance that the city and the elves within were guarded by friendly forces.

"Commander, signal our arrival to the gates." Stormhart let out a great trumpeting cry as Fen gave him his head. She heard the thunder of hooves behind her, Solas was just a few paces back on his Tirashan Swiftwind, Elgar'assan. They pounded through the gates, and Solas swung off his hart, then reached up to lift Fen down with a small smile.

" _Ma serannas, vhenan_." She paused, hesitant. "My clan… will be like I was at first. Keeper will not see the value of your knowledge and wisdom because you do not have the _vallaslin_. Pay no mind to it."

Solas's lips pressed together, but he nodded. "I will be mindful of what I say, _vhenan_. From what you have told me, your Keeper and the Dalish are not ready to hear what there is to be said."

Several people, elves and humans, were lined up to greet them. Hope swelled in Fen's chest when she saw that the Keeper and what was likely the _hahren_ of the Wycome alienage were in the company. They were being given precedence equal that of the shemlen representatives. Fen moved past the dismayed looking humans to the older elven woman with the full knots of Sylaise's _vallaslin_ on her face. "Keeper!"

" _Da'len_! Let's have a look at you!" Keeper Deshanna wrapped her arms around Fen, then pulled back to cast her gaze over her former First. The corners of her mouth turned down in disapproving frown, taking in the scars that cut through her full lips and across her nose and neck. "What happened to you, _da'len_? The _shems_ had assured us that you were unharmed."

"Corypheus's attack at Haven, Keeper. I may have gone face-first through a wooden grate. They are not as bad as they were." Deshanna sighed, and Fen rushed out, "But you are safe with the Inquisition here to fortify the city. We will be staying until we are assured that the rest of the Marchers will leave Wycome and the clan be."

"Yes, about that." A thick, distinctly annoyed Orlesian accent rose behind them. Fen recognized Lady Guinevere Volant from her portrait. The mousy brunette was visibly furious that the human representatives were being ignored for the elven Keeper. She inhaled for a tirade, and the armored woman next to her stepped forward with a salute, Antivan accent thick in her greeting, "Lieutenant Rozellene Chambreterre, Inquisitor. I have been overseeing the fortification of the city, and the disposal of what red lyrium was left in the water supply. Arcanist Dagna's information has been of incredible help in ensuring the safety of the people of the city while the cleanup efforts are in effect."

Lieutenant Chambreterre chattered on, obviously keeping Lady Guinevere from doing or saying anything stupid, and managed to keep going until Cullen, Josephine, and the main Inquisition forces arrived. The Ambassadors, Commander and Lieutenant grouped up to strategize, leaving Fen with Solas, Dorian, Bull, and the Keeper. Dorian strode up and dropped into an elegant bow to Keeper Deshanna, taking her hand and kissing it. "You must be the lovely Keeper our dearest Fen'lath has told us so much about."

"Keeper, this is Dorian Pavus, from House Pavus of Minrathous, that's The Iron Bull, Captain of the Bull's Chargers mercenary company, and Solas, my arcane advisor."

"Hmm." Keeper Deshanna looked from Dorian to Bull to Solas, unimpressed. Fen suddenly felt eight again, with the feeling that she had done something wrong. The Keeper looped her arm through Fen's, and said in a tone that brooked no argument, "Walk with me, _da'len_."

She turned and started walking, fairly dragging Fen along with her. Dorian stepped forward with an angry expression, stopping when Solas set a hand on his arm. "No, let her handle this."

Fen'lath stumbled over the cobbles, leather footwraps and slick stone did not mix well. Turning a corner, Deshanna released her iron grip on Fen's elbow and rounded on her, "Is the Tevinter the lover I've heard rumors of, _da'len_? How could you?! Don't you know what his countrymen do to the People in his homeland?"

Busting up laughing, Fen managed to choke out, "Dorian is charming, Keeper, but I am not to his taste. Women don't have the parts he likes."

Deshanna's mouth dropped open, then squeaked, "It isn't the Qunari, is it? Please, _da'len_ …"

"No, Keeper, Bull has the parts Dorian likes. A lot." Fen was laughing so hard at the absolutely nonplussed look on the older elf's face that she had to bend over and put her hands on her knees. Tears were streaming down her face and she thought she might pass out. "Then, the bald one… the flat-"

"Don't. Don't call him that." Laughter stopped, Fen snapped upright and wobbled for a second. _Bloody blasted blighter, I might pass out from standing upright too quickly_. "He's a Dreamer, Keeper. The People haven't had one in over two hundred years and he is one of the wisest people I have ever met, don't you _dare_ slander him."

An avaricious gleam shone in Deshanna's eye. Suddenly Fen wanted to weep as she saw the woman who had acted as her parent since her mother and then her father had gone to Falon'Din go from loving concern to mentally calculating the bargains she could strike with other clans in trade for Dreamer children. "Are you bonding with him, _da'len_?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. We have not decided. There are more _pressing_ concerns at the moment, Keeper." Sadness overwhelmed Fen when the Keeper frowned at her. There was the the frustrated pinch of the mouth that she knew so well, the disappointment that had preceded every lecture about her _duty_ as a mage of the People, as a First. "Your first duty, always, should be to producing more children for the clan, da'len. Not only because of your talents, but because you have found a man with a skill the People have not had in their blood for so long."

"Is _this_ why you wanted me as your First, Keeper? To use me like a breeding halla? Will you try to tempt Solas with a stud fee next?" She started shaking. "I should have just let Commander Cullen send to Lieutenant Chambreterre to protect you. Coming back was a mistake."

" _Da'len_ -"

"I am _not_ a child anymore, Keeper! And I am not going to keep looking the other way while you brush aside new knowledge of our past because it doesn't fit tradition! I will send letters with whatever I find with Solas, it is up to you whether you act on it and tell the clan. However, if I am asked by any other Keepers or any others of the People, I will not keep it to myself just because it makes you uncomfortable." A potsherd came to mind. One a tiny, five year old Fen had given to a much younger Keeper Deshanna, proud of her find.

The shard of pottery had a blurred but still recognizable figure of Mythal, resting her hand on the head of a wolf. The next time she'd seen it, the shard had been scratched and buffed, the wolf gone and only the figure of Mythal remained. "I will remain in Wycome long enough to ensure that the other Marcher _shems_ treat the city elves and the clan properly, then I am going back to _Tarasyl'an Te'las_. I will write to let you know what Solas and I decide to do. Whatever we decide, I _highly_ doubt it will include bringing any children I might have here to you."

* * *

Solas watched Fen'lath stride back from wherever the Keeper had taken her off to. Her steps were quick and clipped, but she stopped to speak to some city elves and a few of the Lavellan hunters who approached her warily, the three who had accompanied her to Haven if his memory of her descriptions of them matched. The contrast between Fen and her clanmates, and the Dalish and city elves was disconcerting.

The city elves were sickly-toned under the skin made dusky by the Marcher climate, and stick-thin. In his Fade-sight, they were wispy, with scarcely more presence than Tranquil or other non-magical folk. The Dalish were robust compared, with the flush of health in their cheeks and the thickness of well-earned and well-fed muscle on their bodies. Even compared to other Dalish he had encountered, they were more solidly built thanks to their trade with the humans of Wycome rounding out their diet. In Fade-sight, they were as weak spirits, lacking form but still present.

And then there was Fen, his _vhenan_. Though she was not as full as a woman of the elvhen would be, she was obviously the best fed, best-rested, and best cared for of the elves. She was visibly muscular, but also soft, with gentle curves of hip and thigh. Fen bent to speak to one of the children hiding behind the skirts of the city elves, presenting him with a pleasant view of her backside, his favorite of her curves, then she straightened to speak to one of the Dalish hunters, putting her face in profile. Her time in the south of Thedas had lightened her skin compared to her clanmates, and the charming spray of freckles across her cheeks was more visible in contrast.

In Fade-sight… she was solid. She was real. And if she was real… they all had the potential to be real.

As Master Tethras was fond of saying, _well, shit_.


End file.
